


Bound

by draculard



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Mild Humiliation, Trans Jack Sparrow, Trans Male Character, mild bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 08:50:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19849723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: One tug, and the bandages fall apart.





	Bound

When she sneaks her hands under his shirt, he doesn’t make any move to stop her. His lips are on hers, the taste of him alcoholic and heady, and for a moment all she can feel are the hard planes of his stomach, the unnatural warmth of his skin.

Then her hands find his chest and her fingers catch on another layer of cloth, and she wonders for a moment how she possibly could have missed the fact that he’s wearing two shirts.

Then she realizes it’s not a shirt — it’s a long strip of sailcloth, the type Mr. Gibbs uses for makeshift bandages.

“You’re injured?” Elizabeth says, pulling away. She keeps her hands on Jack’s chest, pressing down on the bandaged wound, and he looks back at her with the most perfectly blank expression she’s ever seen on him. 

His hooded, kohl-darkened eyes never leave hers. He reaches underneath his shirt, long, ringed fingers grabbing her wrist, and gently adjusts her position so that she’s no longer pressing on his sternum. Instead, he moves her hand to the side, to the soft mound beneath the bandage.

And then he smiles, a defensive baring of his teeth, the kind of smile that tells Elizabeth to back off and to back off _now_.

She removes her hand, stumbling backward on the deck. Jack lets his hand fall, staring at her with unfamiliar hostility.

“You’re a woman,” Elizabeth breathes, her words almost inaudible under the wind. 

“No.” Jack’s eyes harden as he says it, his mouth a tight line. 

“But—” Elizabeth knows what she felt.

“I am no more a woman,” says Jack fiercely, “than you were a man when you dressed as one in Tortuga.”

He was _born_ as a woman then, Elizabeth supposes, but he certainly doesn’t look like one now. She eyes his braided beard, his narrow figure, the harsh line of his jaw.

The dirt under his fingernails.

She rejoins him without another word, watches the hostility on his face melt into something different — satisfaction, hunger, relief. His lips find her neck; her hands find his chest again, arms wrapping around him until she comes across the little strap of cloth he tucked into the rest to keep the bandages tightly wound. She tugs it free and he lets her, too busy exploring her neck, her collarbone, her _skin_ to protest.

One tug, and the bandages fall apart, leaving one long strip of sailcloth in Elizabeth’s hands. His breasts are bare now, half-visible under his open shirt, each of them small enough to fit in Elizabeth’s palm. His nipples are dusky and erect in the cool air.

 _Does his crew know?_ Elizabeth wonders. Does he worry they’ll see him like this — that someone will round the corner and spot him here, his secret on display? His breath is coming quick now, his color high.

Humiliation?

Anticipation?

Fear?

“Remember the first time we kissed?” Elizabeth murmurs, and he closes his eyes and huffs out a shaky laugh, breath warm against her lips. His hands are on Elizabeth’s waist and she pins them together easily, wrapping the sailcloth ‘round his wrists.

“Oh, darling,” Jack says, chest heaving, cheeks flushed, “I do so love to be bound.”


End file.
